Bat-Sht Crazy
by James Dayan
Summary: The angel family is composed of a bunch of mental patients staying at NorthSide long-term facility. When Dean, a surly alcoholic and suicidal, comes to the ward, can he help Castiel out of his psychosis? Or will Cas's mind forever be lost?
1. Chapter 1

"...8, 9, 10! Ready or not, here I come!" Anna cried, uncovering her eyes before racing out of her room, not bothering to shut the door. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, wondering where the rest of her friends could be hiding.

It didn't take her long to find Balthazar, since he was behind the door, muttering under his breath. "Found you," she said, poking him in the chest. He nodded, giving a small smile, "Yes, yes, now let's go, okay?" he said, looking around nervously, panic creeping into his voice. She rolled her eyes, strolling down the hall with him at her side.

Lucifer and Michael were easy to find, since they had stopped playing to argue over who's spot it was and somewhere along the way, Michael had broken down crying and a nurse had to escort him back to his room. "Alright," Anna said, "Now where are Cas and Gabe?"

It took them another twenty minutes before Balthazar let out a loud sigh, "Oh bollocks, we forfeit!" he shouted, fingers nervously picking at the hem of his shirt. Moments later, two devious faces popped up from under the nurse's station.

Gabriel, who had a white board on a cord slung around his neck, uncapped the marker from his pocket and quickly scribbled down, "Got you!" He then turned to Castiel, signing something quickly before grinning. Castiel let a small smile grace his lips before his face returned back to its blank stare.

"Now that that is done with," said Lucifer, "Can we please go to art? I want to colour." He folded his arms childishly and Anna let out a laugh, "Sure thing, lucy. Gabe, Cassie, c'mon." She turned, looking down the hallway before turning very pale and dropping to her knees.

Gabe ran to her side, asking her through signs if she was okay, but she smacked him away and started to let out a monstrous wail, hands over her ears, eyes screwed shut. The nurses quickly ran to them, picking her up but deciding it was better to hold her down and give her a shot to calm her hallucinations.

Balthazar gave a sad look at Anna before ushering his friends, "Let's go, she wouldn't want us to see her like this."

Gabriel pulled Castiel along, who's stare was transfixed on the wall, seemingly on nothing. No one really knew what went on in his head. Castiel had split personality disorder with a touch of psychosis, enough to keep him out of touch with that around him. He had made his own little world, locking himself deep inside it. He rarely talked, and if he did, it was only to Gabriel, his cousin, who was mute himself.

All of them shared a series of illnesses and disorders that prohibited them from leaving the safety of Northside Psych.

Truth be told, they liked it there.

That was, until the intruder arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning, this chapter includes suicide attempt and self harm that may be triggering to specific individuals. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Dean Winchester was not a quitter by any means. He hadn't quit when the kids at school shoved him down into the mud. He hadn't quit when his father told him to after he missed the shooting target seven times. And he certainly was not going to quit now.

To him, this was just the next step. He wasn't quitting, he told himself. Dying does not translate to giving up.

So he brought out his razor blade and locked himself in the tiny motel bathroom and turned the shower on just in case Sam came back. When Sam comes back... Dean ran a hand over his face, giving a sad half-smile before whispering, "'I'm sorry, Sammy."

Running the double-edged blade across his arm several times, watching the blood drip down the sides of his arm. He slid down the door, coming to sit on the tile, head leaned back as he exhaled. He took another deep breath before pressing the blade at the top of his wrist, dragging it down to his elbow, hoping he cut open the vein.

Dropping his metal friend, he decided to move to the bathtub to make less of a mess.

Always considerate, even on his deathbed.

"Dean, I'm back!" Sam exclaimed, shutting the creaky door behind him. His brother was nowhere in sight. Sam shrugged off a feeling of worry, Dean was probably just at the bar down the street. He pulled off his plaid jacket, stripping down to a slim tee and jeans. "Better take a shower," he mumbled to himself, walking towards the bathroom door and trying the knob.

Locked.

That's strange, no one's here... unless-

"Dean?" Sam tried the knob again, shoving his shoulder into the door, "Dean?!" He shouted more urgently. It took him a good several tries but the door finally gave way to his weight, crumbling beneath him easily.

At the sight of his older brother in the tub, covered in blood, presumably his own, Samuel crumpled to his knees after leaping across the bathroom. "DEAN?! What did you do?!"

Whipping out his phone, he quickly dialed 911, calling for an ambulance.

A small groan escaped his older brother's lips, his face was pale and his lips were a faint pink, much lighter than usual. Sam thought quickly, slapping his Dean's face, making him scrunch his nose, only slightly.

"C'mon, Dean, stay with me. It's going to be okay, just a few more minutes and the ambulance will be here..." He trailed off, tears filling his eyes. He couldn't lose him, not Dean. He couldn't be alone.

Not after they lost dad.

Dean awoke to a pounding head and a sore back. "Where am I?" He mumbled, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the white light above him.

A large blur rushed towards him and he groaned, his head pounding, "Oh thank god you're awake." Sam slowly came into focus, his worried eyes and tear-stained face a clear indication that his plan had failed.

A nurse came in a moment later, beckoning a doctor over. He came in slowly, clearly in no hurry to see his patient. "You're awake, that's a good sign. You lost a lot of blood Mr. Winchester. Thankfully, your brother is the same blood type as you and offered to do a transplant. We got some blood into you and soon you'll be as good as new."

The doctor pursed his lips, "However, seeing that this was a suicide attempt, you'll need to be housed in our long-term psychological facility until you're mentally capable of being in society."

Dean narrowed his eyes, taking in the information, "I'll be _what_? No no no, I'm not going to be in some loony bin!"

Sam shot him a desperate look, "Dean, please, just for a little while, okay? Once they have you medicated-"

"Medicated?! I don't need to be medicated, Sammy. I'm not some fucking incapable sap, I'm perfectly fine to go back to work!"

The doctor cut in with a clearing of his throat, "I have already notified your mechanics shop. Your uncle, Bobby, will be taking care of the place until you're well enough to return."

He gave a small, frustrated scream. "This is ridiculous."

"I'm sorry, , but this is what it is. Now, you can either accompany us to our psychiatric facility or we can sedate you. Which would you rather?"

Dean looked down at his wrists, seeing the long, thick scars that ran down them. He glanced back up to give Sammy a hate-filled look before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood on shaky legs.

"Lead the way, Doc," he grumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

"Please answer the question, Mr. Winchester." the doctor sighed, repeating himself for the second time.

Dean gave a sideways look to Sammy, who was looking at him with puppy eyes in the seat adjacent.

"I'm not answering this," he mumbled.

"Would it be easier if your brother left?" The doctor asked, already motioning for Sam to stand. His younger brother got up quickly, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder comfortingly, "Just be honest with him, Dean. He's not here to hurt you or anything-"

"I know that, Sammy!" he snapped, shrugging his hand off.

Sam, with a look of hurt on his face, walked out the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Now, I'll ask you again, Dean: How long have you been cutting yourself?" Dean said nothing. He kept his arms folded across his chest as his eyes picked apart the room. From its sterile white walls to the chairs bolted into the ground, he already didn't like the psych ward.

"Alright, next question. Have you-"

"Seven years."

"I beg your pardon?" the psychiatrist asked, a bit stunned.

"I've been cutting for seven years. There's your damn answer."

The doctor gave a small smile, just barely a twitch of the corner of his mouth, but it was enough. "Alright, next: Do you currently have thoughts of hurting yourself?"

Dean took a moment to think about that one. Did he want to cut right now? He shook his head in reply, "Yes."

The psychiatrist checked something off on his clipboard. "Any homocidal thoughts?"

"No."

"Hearing voices or seeing things others don't see or hear?"

"No."

"I think that just about does it. Would you like me to get your brother for you?"

"No, that's alright. Just tell him to get my clothes from the trunk." Dean said. The psychologist left, leaving the door open a smidge, enough for a chilling breeze to whip its way through the evaluation room. Dean pulled his shirt tighter around himself, wishing he had a blanket or a jacket with him.

Minutes passed and no sign of the doctor. A meek rapping at the door brought his attention from the floor back towards the doorway. Sam stood there with a duffel bag and an extra jacket slung over his shoulder.

"Figured you might want this," Sam said as he tossed Dean the army jacket, "It's chilly in here."

Dean gratefully pulled the jacket on, buttoning it up to his chin. The silence hung thick in the room, making Dean bite his lip to keep from yelling at his younger brother for bringing him in the first place.

"Why'd you do it, Dean?" Came Sam's small voice. His hands were folded in his lap and his eyes were locked onto the fingers clasped around one another. Dean gave him a wary look before answering, "Don't know what you're talkin' about, Sammy-"

"Oh shove it, Dean, don't give me that bullshit. Tell me why." He snapped, eyes shifting up to look at his brother. Swimming amongst the green flecked with gold was sadness, worry and most prominant: hurt.

Dean gave a long sigh, running a hand through his short hair, "Listen Sammy, you don't understand just how much I really suck. You don't see it because I'm your big bro and in your eyes I'm cool as fuck, but let's be real here: I'm nothing. I'm a drunkard, a nympho, and a piece of shit on a good day."

Sam opened his mouth to interject but Dean held up a hand, "No Sam, trust me when I tell you that you and uncle Bobby would be better off without me. I'm just dead weight, dragging you all around. And plus all that guilt... All that guilt from hurting so many people and letting so many of them down. Mom, dad, Lisa, Ben; I let everyone down and it's a never ending list of people that I've hurt."

"I didn't want that on my conscience, Sam. No one would. The things I felt every day... the numbness in my soul, I just couldn't take it. I can't take it. That's why." Dean's voice ended in a quiet whisper.

Sam gave him a pitiful look, brow creased and eyes brimming with tears he wouldn't shed, "Dean, no, that's not true..." he whispered back, shifting to face him.

Dean shook his head, silencing him, "Don't waste your breath."

Sam went back to staring at his hands.

The doctor came in a while after, ushering Dean back as he heaved up his duffel bag of clothes and toiletries. He clapped his hand on his brother's back, giving him a weak smile, "I guess I'll be seeing you, Sammy."

Sam nodded, his mouth a thin line as he supressed tears and unsaid words. "I'll see you, Dean."

Leading him out of the double doors, stopping to let Sam out through the lobby, the psychiatrist wound through the hallways dragging Dean behind him.

"So where are we headed?" Dean asked, jogging to catch up with him.

"We're going to drop your stuff off at the desk and then you're going to activities and will meet the others."

"Others?"

The psychiatrist gave a small smile, "Yes, I'm sure you'll like them. Though they're a bit... mischevious."

"Who are they?"

"Oh don't worry, Dean. They're angels."


End file.
